I am Rachel Berry
by ShouldHaveReadBetweenTheLines
Summary: Rachel's musings on how much Quinn has hurt her. Faberry. Please don't be put off by the first couple of paragraphs, it does get a little more optimistic. Reviews would be muchly appreciated, thanks.


**A/N: I know I already put this in the summary but: Please don't be fooled by how depressing the first few paragraphs are, it does get happier/optimistic.  
A/N: I really love writing the little****Faberry oneshots but I decided to kinda go on a different perspective this time, I don't know whether it's my thing yet so some reviews would be muchly appreciated, thanks.**

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It hurts. My senses hurt. It hurts to move. To speak. To listen. To eat. It even hurts to think. Everything hurts. Everywhere hurts. And I don't care. Pain is good. Pain means that I've finally realised, that I know what's happening.

But I don't get why.

Why is it happening? Why now? Why her? Why me? Why is this happening? What has made this happen? And why haven't I noticed it before? Why has it only just occured to me? Why have I only just acknowledged it now? Is it her fault? Is it his fault? For flaunting it about and letting the whole school know what they get up to. I understand she's allowed to what she wants. She is seventeen years old. But that's not her. That's not what she does. I've known her for longer than him and I know. I know!

I know that's not her. She doesn't let everyone know her private business. She isn't that attention-seeking, that pompous, that conceited to think that everyone should want to know what goes on in the privacy of her bedroom.

But that is her. Well, now it is anyway. She's changed, and I cannot bare it. Or maybe she hasn't changed. Maybe she's always been like this inside, and now that her father's gone, she can finally let go. She can finally be free.

So I should be happy, should I not? That Quinn has found herself? That she's finally the person she wants to be? Yes, I should be happy. And I try to be. The Lord knows I try. But I'm not. I can't do it, it's virtually impossible. And it hurts me to know that I can't be happy for her. Because she more than anyone deserves people to be nice to her. After everything she's been through she doesn't deserve to be treated horribly, I know this. But that doesn't change the way it hurts.

I don't sing anymore, I don't want to. Because that hurts as well. Not my throat, I haven't got an eternal sore throat or anything. But it hurts my heart. And my head. People say, either follow your heart or your head. That you can't follow both. But what if both your heart and head are telling you the same thing? But you don't listen to them because you're scared? What do you do then? How do escape that feeling, does anyone know?

I'm never going to tell her. I can't. Ever. I'm a coward and I know it, but I don't care because maybe if I hurt a little longer things will get better. Because things can't hurt much more than this. So I'll go to school tomorrow and I will smile and be happy but I won't sing or dance, I'll blame it on swollen glands, like I have done for the past few weeks. And Santana can sing in my place.

That's good though, Santana has a beautiful voice. And she is a good performer. But I wish it could be me up there, I wish it could be me hitting those high notes and pouring my sole into a gorgeous melody, but I won't ever again. I can't do it anymore. It seems like every song I sing I see her face before me, every story I tell through different lyrics seems to fit what I'm going through, every emotion running through them I somehow feel towards Quinn.

So I've stopped. I don't want to make the pain worse, which is what happens whenever I sing. So I've stopped. I've stopped doing the thing I love more than anything because of her. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not blaming her. This isn't her fault in any way, she didn't make me fall in love with her. But I wish that I could blame her, things would be so much easier. Like in Romeo and Juliet. When Romeo blames Juliet for Mercutio's death, I wish I could do that. Or maybe I could blame it on fortune, like Romeo does after killing Tybalt.

But I know that isn't right. So I've just sat still and kept my lips tight shut and let it all engulf me. For a while I was numb, I felt it happening but I didn't really _realise_ what I was actually feeling. Well, I realised, but it didn't seem like such a big deal. It's like I've been under water for almost a year and now I've finally resurfaced and I don't like it. Like I've lived in a parallel universe and now that I've come back to reality, I don't like what I see or feel. And I want to go back under water, I want to go back to that parallel universe.

But I know that I can't because this is my life. This is what I've made of it. This is what happened when I sat back and let this shit happen.

It's weird now that I've written this down, that I feel more optimistic. That I can go back to school on Monday with a _genuine _happy smile on my face. And in a few weeks I might even try singing again. That in a few months time it may hurt less. It may not hurt at all. I may be hurting after someone else. Or I might even be happy with someone else. That's probably not going to happen, and I know it. I'm never going to forget Quinn. They say you never forget your first real love. But if I've got my optimism; if I can get the old, annoying and incessantly rambling Rachel Berry back then maybe I can get through this. I hope that I will get through this or, at least, I learn to live with the pain. I've been down many a time before this. Granted, those situations were a little less extreme. But I've always picked myself up from those and I think I can do it again. I _know _I can do it again.

Because I am Rachel fucking Berry and, in my world, shit always happens.


End file.
